


and it is getting dark

by badgertablet



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: (dont worry its just jor-el. bye binch), Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Dark Jon Kent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unresolved Emotional Tension, alternate universe where there are actual consequences, if u tilt ur head and squint it could be jondami but also it could just be two best friends, salt fic, tags make it sound bad but it really isnt, this is mostly just: confrontation /clap clap clap/ 64 /clap clap clap/, villain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 17:50:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgertablet/pseuds/badgertablet
Summary: “Iʼm back, Damian. This is real. Itʼsme.”“No,” Damian snarls, twisting in Clarkʼs grip, “— you arenʼt Jon, youbastard,where is he?” His brothers and sisters shift behind them, uncomfortable at his unusual display of emotion, but he doesnʼt care.The imposter — laughs. Chortles, really, head tossed back in amusement as he giggles wildly, and it sounds too much like the Joker for anyoneʼs comfort. The Not-Jon manages to get himself under control, flicking away a laughter induced tear, and smiles at him brightly. Damianʼs heart aches in his chest because it looks so much like him, but. This is not his best friend.His best friend is not seventeen and older than him by two years, his best friend does not have a deep, painful looking scar on his face, and his best friend would never break Batmanʼs back like itʼs uncooked spaghetti.( Itcanʼtbe. )
Relationships: Jon Lane Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, could be shippy or brotp u decide
Comments: 30
Kudos: 394





	and it is getting dark

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】【jondami/乔黑化】世间渐暗](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437783) by [LisK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisK/pseuds/LisK)

> lmaoooo heres another salt fic babey!! title is taken from curiosity's last message to earth 
> 
> _context for those who need it:_  
bendis decided to have jon fuck off to space for the past irl year (/cough/so he could age him up/cough/) with his somehow not-dead paternal grandfather jor-el and had him (surprise surprise) come back seventeen. for those of u who dont know jor-el survived the death of krypton by a mysterious force and recently reacquainted with clark and his fam after he kidnapped tim drake a while back and generally is just not a good dude. like. at all.  
and, uh, jor-el offered to take jon on a Space Adventure^tm so he could Learn About Himself and his Heritage and clark and lois. let him? jon uber-regretted it after his mom (who was with him for a bit) got sent back to earth after being injured and left him with his grandpa who can be suitably called insane. long story short they got pulled near a blackhole, jon got send to the crime syndicate universe (think owlman or idk just evil justice league) kidnapped by his evil dad, held in a literal volcano (bc that way sunlight couldnt reach him...?) got tortured by his dad a lot and had to listen to him complain for like five years before he escaped and with the eventual help of jor-el was returned to his universe.  
and then he came back Totally Fine but now seventeen instead of twelve because five years have passed for him while its only been One ((1)) month in his universe (which really doesnt make sense for so many reasons but ill shut my mouth now) 
> 
> basically i say screw tom king and bendis, here are some consequences and trauma for being held in an evil dimension / dragged across the universe with Mr. Unstable Superman Senior, and while we're at it im fixing damian and jon's reunion bc it SUCKED  


When Clark first told him Jon was in space heʼd ran, _ shoved _ it out of his mind, and fled to the Titans. He didnʼt want to think about Jon just — just _ leaving _ him, and his fellow peers were a good enough distraction to keep him busy.

Everything had been okay until Roundhouse vanished. Damian had been missing Jon something fierce and worrying about him because Clark had finally admitted that something had gone wrong with the space trip, and as a result had been more snappy than usual. No one thought much of it because it was no secret that sometimes they all needed breaks from each other, and Roundhouse was prone to go on trips to cool off. 

And then a week later a letter arrived, stating his formal withdrawal from the Teen Titans and request not to be tracked down. Damian had tried to anyways, but it was like he had simply disappeared. 

The team had been concerned for him and angry at Damian, so it was inevitable that they all began to fall apart. 

One by one by one, they all ‘leftʼ. Djinn was next, then Crush, and finally Red Arrow, all with letters of resignation that turned up days later. By Emiko, Damian had known something was up and sent Lace away for protection despite still having chips connected to their vitals that proved they were alive. No one, minus Lace, had believed that something was up; they all assumed that their previous teammates had grown tired of Damian and even agreed with them, lashing out more and more at their leader despite him (desperately) trying to fix things. Outside of Lace, he hadnʼt shared his worries with anyone else because it was logical to assume they had all left of their own free will. There were no signs of struggle, no hidden messages within the letters, and enough history of tension to back up their reasoning. And Damian was too afraid of admitting that he drove them away to admit it to his family. To them, the Teen Titans had simply fallen apart. 

( Because of _ him_. ) 

And that was what Damian convinced himself as well. 

( It wasn’t like he was easy to get along with. ) 

He only picked up his theory of something suspicious going on when old communications from Jon began to arrive in his inbox. All of his transmissions from space arrived after they were sent due to the tremendous distance they traveled, and Damian had to watch his best friend break down about how stupid he had been for going with his grandfather, how much he regretted it and how much he missed him from hundreds of thousands of light years away. Eventually, after he thought he could bear no more watching them, seeing the despair as their ship was pulled towards a black hole, the most recent one had arrived. And Jon had been _ different. _

He was... older. Angrier. More traumatized from five years in the hell that the Crime Syndicate had come from, he told him. It was after he watched that one, watched as Jon explained what had happened to him, how he realized how naïve he had truly been before his imprisonment, how he realized that Batman’s version of justice wasn’t working, and how much he _ loved _Damian — that he knew he had to show his father. 

( Something had broken and shattered within him during his imprisonment. Damian could see it in his eyes, in his posture; the Jon he knew was dead. ) 

And so he did.

It was easy to connect the dissipation of the Titans with Jon. He had unknown, powerful technology at his fingertips, so it was entirely feasible that he had threatened (because thatʼs what he was capable of, now) Damianʼs teammates via telecommunications or perhaps even possible galactic contacts that he had gained, like Lobo. It was even easier to confront Clark and make him spill that his son was most likely back on Earth as theyʼd had a confrontation after a battle with Lor-Zod that ended with a furious older Jon flying away and disappearing_ again. _

( Superman told him that Jon said he was the only one that he wanted to see. Apparently he blamed his parents for irresponsibly allowing Jor-El to take him on their dangerous trip— which, honestly, Damian agreed with— and now distrusted and disliked them because they reminded him of those who imprisoned him: Ultraman and Superwoman. The pair that _ destroyed _ him. 

Mr. Oz hadnʼt been with Jon. Damian could fill in the blanks there, even if Clark claimed that he could have left him in the alternate dimension or on their ship. ) 

Damian hadnʼt even needed to try and convince them that Jon was the puppet-master behind his team falling apart. His father and Clark knew what the Syndicate was like, knew how they could twist and manipulate easily and without remorse, and knew that Superboy was now irrecoverably changed for the worse. 

( Damian had been barely managing to function without him for the scant months he had been gone. 

He could not imagine five years. )

\- 

The imposter hovers above him, fingers red from the blood of Damianʼs friends and family, and opens his arms for a hug.

“Iʼm back, Damian. This is real. Itʼs _ me_.” 

“No,” Damian snarls, twisting in Clarkʼs grip, “— you arenʼt Jon, you _ bastard, _ where is he?” (He never claimed to not be in denial.) His brothers and sisters shift behind them, uncomfortable at his unusual display of emotion, but he doesnʼt care.

The imposter — laughs. Chortles, really, head tossed back in amusement as he giggles wildly, and it sounds too much like the Joker for anyoneʼs comfort. The Not-Jon manages to get himself under control, flicking away a laughter induced tear, and smiles at him brightly. Damianʼs heart aches in his chest because it looks so much like him, but. This is not his best friend.

His best friend is not seventeen and older than him by two years, his best friend does not have a deep, painful looking scar on his face, and his best friend would never break Batmanʼs back like itʼs uncooked spaghetti. 

( It _ canʼt _be. ) 

“Oh, Damian,” the creature sighs, eyes fond and soft, leaning his own face in his palm while his elbow nestles comfortably on the arm crossed across his chest, “Iʼve missed you and your temper so much.” 

He floats down closer, firmly fixating on Damian despite the multitude of heroes who stiffen and edge nearer to him protectively, only stopping when Clark moves in the middle of them both. His expression doesnʼt shift, but something almost audibly sours as his line of sight to Robin is cut off. As soon as Supermanʼs broad shoulders block him, Tim yanks him back a couple of steps, moving to stand in front of him, and as he tries to lunge forward he feels Jasonʼs firm hand grab him by the scruff of his neck and lift him like heʼs a kitten. He doesnʼt struggle because he knows he canʼt break out of his grip easily, instead folding his arms angrily and glaring at the ground. 

Above them, Clark is desperately trying to plead with the interloper, hands spread wide, placating, but heʼs ignored as his son just cranes his neck until he can see Damian again, features softening when he does. Reflexively, Jasonʼs hand tightens around his hood and tugs him even closer to his chest, and Damian can feel his body thrumming with dangerdanger_ danger. _

(Distantly, he wonders if Grayson is somewhere in the massive group of vigilantes. Thereʼs a decent chance he could be, as he was apparently becoming more active in Blüdhaven as some weird mashup of his Nightwing and Agent 37 aliases. The police group that had dubbed themselves as the new Nightwing had been failing spectacularly, enough so that Grayson ended up being forced to intervene so they didnʼt get killed; so, technically, he was back in the business even if he refused to contact or connect with anyone outside of his city.

But maybe Barbara convinced him to come; heʼd stuck up for a bunch of nobodies he didnʼt know, so why wouldnʼt he do the same for Damian? Because, after-all, thatʼs what he was to him now. Someone he didnʼt know and didnʼt want to know. 

If he was present, it wouldnʼt be because he cared. It would be because of the faint instincts and ghost compulsions from the life he didnʼt want to remember. Itʼd be from a fucked-up sense of responsibility for Damian. 

Not love. 

So as he caught a glimpse of the Nightwing symbol from the corners of his eyes, he shoved down any childish hope flickering in his chest and let Jason hold him close. 

Despite all of the facts, he didnʼt know which one he would rather prefer. ) 

For a second, nothing happens. And then Jonʼs (clone? Alternate version of himself? Because that was _ not _ Jon—) copy opens his mouth and speaks, voice heavy with intent. 

“Move, Dad.” 

No one even twitches. 

“Ugh, I forgot how stubborn you were.” 

Jon rolls his eyes and shifts, posture loosening. He looks, for a minute, like a petulant teenager as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, but his next words are anything but. 

“That wasnʼt a request, Xʼal... youʼre almost as annoying as Grandad was.” 

Everyoneʼs attention catches on the past tense, and still above them Clark flinches back a little bit and whispers, “...was?” 

He tilts his head, grins. “Yeah.” Thereʼs no other explanation offered, and thatʼs when he moves. All there is is a blur of movement, too fast for the human eye to see, but Damian still startles back, expecting to be plucked from his brotherʼs grip. 

But it doesnʼt happen. 

Jon and his father exchange blows in the air, snapping at each other indistinctly, and Jason tucks him in closer to his side while Tim stands in front of them both like a sentinel, hands knuckling at his bo-staff as he watches. Clark goes down with a scream as heʼs jabbed with something; it looks like some sort of Taser fueled with what only can be Kryptonite, and as Jon wipes away the blood from his broken nose Damian twitches away because — this raw power is _ terrifying _ and overwhelming, and heʼs almost never felt this out of depth before. 

( His friend — because thatʼs Jon, he canʼt deny it anymore — is terrifying. It is utterly terrifying to see him hurt his father that Damian knows he once adored just to get a better chance of reaching him and taking him because he thinks that he’s the only person who hasn’t betrayed him left. 

It’s funny that the only person he trusts is a highly trained and traumatized assassin turned child soldier, Damian thinks. ) 

Everyone around him tenses, and slips into their battle positions, and Superboy simply raises an eyebrow as he looks down at them. Heʼs a Super. With Clark out of commission and Bruce at home with his broken back, they really donʼt stand a chance, and they are all perfectly aware of that. 

“Come on, Dami,” he calls, “— you know me. Weʼre the Supersons. We _ need _ each other.” He hesitates for a moment, looking vulnerable as he stares down at Damian, and tries to smile. “ _ I _need you.” 

His chest feels tight, like he’s dead, and as he looks up at the remains of the person he once loved something within him bursts, tears itself out of his throat. It’s ugly, raw, choked in tears, but it escapes and _ worms _ itself out past his tongue. “If you had ever needed me you wouldn’t have _ left_.” 

Jon flinches back like he’s been struck, and irony is bitter in his mouth. The punches and kicks and burns haven’t deterred him at all, but words sink deeper into him than any wound. Typical. 

With a sharp twist he pulls himself out of his brother’s hold and, uncaring of the strangled cries and sharp inhalations from the heroes around him, steps forward. The Kryptonian looks down at him, eyes shiny with tears (or is it his heat vision—?), so he stiffens and clenches his fists. He’s never backed down from a fight with him before, and he’s not planning on changing that. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t leave _ first_.” Jon hisses, and folds his arms, floating towards him. 

Face now perfectly impassive, Jon hovers above him for a moment before he drops, letting his heels dig into the dirt and stands there. Up close, he doesn’t look like he has godlike powers at his fingertips; he just looks far too old and haunted. He looks like the traumatized teen he is; he’s made up of scar tissue now, with bloody knuckles and deep eyebags to match. It’s silent as they examine each other; it seems that besides from the two of them, no one moves or even breathes, simply watching and waiting in rapt attention for anything to go wrong. As they stand there, the tension winds tighter and tighter, teetering on the edge of exploding like a live wire in water before it’s finally broken by a small, quiet, “Tt.” 

Jon’s expression twitches, and he glides into the air, still keeping the eye contact between the two of them while the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. A couple of members of the group of vigilantes behind Robin can’t help but surge forward a couple of steps as the distance between them increases, and that’s what makes him break his gaze from his best friend. When he looks down at the rest of the heroes behind Damian, his expression folds up and smooths away, returning his face to stoic blankness as quick as a flip of a dime. 

“...let’s talk about this when there’s more privacy, okay?” He says, and does a slow loop in the air lazily. “I don’t like having all these people listening in. It’s pretty _rude_, actually,” His eyes glitter with red-hot heat as he surveys them before they wander back to the smallest of them. “But I’ll give you the gist. I went with my grandfather because my_ parents_ didn’t stop their stupid twelve-year old son from going with an evil megalomaniac despite knowing what he did. _I _got captured by the bad version of the Justice League, got held in a volcano, tortured, the works. It took _years_ of my life to escape and get home because of my good old Grandad. But I’m_ back_, baby!” A wolfish grin split across his face. “And now I’m going to hug you.”

Before anyone can register what he’s doing, he wraps Damian in an all encompassing — but brief — hug, and darts back into the air. While he’s still processing what just happened, Jon sends a huge smile down at him, sends him some finger guns, and, while turning away midair, says something that shouldn’t scare him as much as it does. 

“I’ll see you around, Dami.” 

Damian does not doubt that he will. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :^D 
> 
> yeah if i couldnt tell i didnt really know how to end it OOF but i hope u all enjoyed it anyways. funny story i spent like five million years on the title bc i just... love space... i almost did the old soviet cosmonaut song 'apple trees will bloom on mars' and 'voyager 1, welcome home' after the space probe launched in 1977 as well as 'with humanity and hope' taken from the greeting on the golden record (a gold disc that has a message of goodwill from the people of Earth to any extraterrestrial passersby and what will be left of humanity bc it'll still be puttering along by the time we all die. in shorter words, humanity's mixtape to the galaxy) that went on it but. here we are with the current title lol 
> 
> thank you for reading and please leave a comment for me below!!! pretty please !! 
> 
> (and as always, my main blog is @badgertablet and my comics sideblog is @damiqn if u wanna chat or yell at me)


End file.
